


a series of (un)fortunate events

by camicazi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Are Vibrating Dildos A Thing, Demonyeol, Edging, Fluff and Smut, I Hope They Are, M/M, Minor Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongin | Kai, Minor Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Oh Sehun, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex (but not really), Vague mentions of blowjobs, Vampiresoo, responsible bf ksoo takes care of drunkyeol, sappy boyfriends chansoo, there's angst but only like...a pinch... for flavor..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camicazi/pseuds/camicazi
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, there are only a few things Kyungsoo is able to deny his boyfriend of.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 18
Kudos: 115





	a series of (un)fortunate events

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chronological](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronological/gifts).



> happy birthday to my baby-shaped friend!!! here is a fanfic for your fanart (?)! thank you for sharing it with us <3

Contrary to popular belief, there are only a few things Kyungsoo is able to deny his boyfriend of.

Over the course of their three-year relationship, Kyungsoo has been placed as the one with the resolve set to complement whatever the hell Chanyeol felt like being, all impulsive decisions and reckless chances—night and day, corny websites called it, a balancing of elements;

One pushes the other towards necessary dangers, and in turn, he is pulled back from the edge of teetering too far off a cliff.

They laugh about it in private, whispering about the more ridiculous assumptions between their pillows.

“Baekhyun keeps teasing me,” Kyungsoo traces light circles along Chanyeol’s bare back, “about that toy he keeps showing you for your birthday.”

No relationship is truly ever as simple as two complements coming together.

Chanyeol snorts. “The one we just used?”

Kyungsoo hums, head falling against the taller boy’s shoulder.

He loves it, had come to claim the spot as his own, cuddling up when he feels like it and resting on him when he needs to. 

“They’re gonna find out about your scheme one day,” Chanyeol laughs. 

A separate language is one that develops between a relationship that’s solid enough, and for Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, this joke has been one of the first letters to their alphabet.

Their first halloween together, they had gone to throw eggs over a rude professor’s house.

They had spray painted his gate with english letters to avoid suspicion and slipped through some wilderness on the way back. 

The gang had absolutely refused to believe that Kyungsoo was the reason they’d been covered in mud and toilet paper, going as far as to blame Chanyeol for getting them into possible reckoning with their grades (that didn’t come).

“What are they trying to prove?” Kyungsoo had asked, bewildered, as their friends walked away, shaking their heads.

“I already said it was me that got you to do it.” 

Chanyeol, not at all affected by the judgment, had pretended to sound contemplative.

“Hmm,” he’d _tsked_ , “or this might be a scheme of yours, a grand plan, I’m boyfriends with a master liar.“

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo had elbowed him, a smile of his own creeping into his face. “Scheme them into what?” 

“Into thinking you’re an angel.”

Kyungsoo had only rolled his eyes, reaching up to pluck a stray leaf from his ear.

“Not if you keep going along with it,” Kyungsoo says now, the familiarity of it all such common ground between them; and he's past the point of asking why a stupid joke, almost fleeting, _stuck,_ however unworthy. 

“I think they’re just playing dumb at this point. I’ve done some pretty stupid shit since I met you too.”

“Which they think is _because of me_ ,” Chanyeol rises on his forearms, fake apprehension in his one raised eyebrow. “You got them enchanted or something?”

It should be tired at this point, overused.

Kyungsoo giggles and blames it on the post-orgasm high.

“The only one I’m interested in enchanting is you.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t even have to look to know that Chanyeol rolls his eyes—“corny ass,” he mumbles—but there’s something gentle in the way he maneuvers them back to a better position for sleep. 

“You love me anyway,” Kyungsoo holds the blankets tighter, burying his face so Chanyeol can’t steal them back.

A sigh, fond and defeated. “I do.”

The attempt at cheating his way into full ownership of his boyfriend’s covers—Kyungsoo loves the way they smell, something sweet and distinctly Chanyeol—is met with an unimpressed huff. 

“Don’t hog the blankets.“

“You should love me enough to give me all of them,” Kyungsoo says as he heaps more and more around his body. 

“I don’t love you that much.”

Kyungsoo peeks out from his nest. “You’re telling me the three years I put up with your flat ass was all for nothing?”

“Hey!”

“Yeol, I’m cold,” he tries to whine, before feeling a larger portion of his self-made cocoon being ripped away.

“So am I.” 

He pouts, and only a second passes by before Chanyeol relents.

“C’mere, you overgrown koala.”

Arms pull him flush against Chanyeol’s side, and all at once, Kyungsoo is surrounded with his presence, sharp and trailing and familiar, a comfort that slows down his heartbeat. 

This, Kyungsoo begrudgingly decides, is so much better than just his scent, an admission as old as their language. 

_one_

Part of being called the metaphorical rock in a relationship is the assumption of having a solid resolve, one that’s needed for shaking your head at unreasonable purchases and over-the-top ideas.

Three years into their relationship, he’s always surprised that there is more of his resolve left for Chanyeol to break down.

The first few weeks, he’d chalked it up to being trapped in the honeymoon phase.

Of course he wouldn’t have boundaries yet. 

Of course he’d go to Chanyeol’s game, of course he’d go on a study date (even if he had always preferred studying alone), of course he’d listen to his spiel about the best and personal favorite guitar techniques.

Who wouldn’t?

Park Chanyeol was perfect; smile set to a default on his lips, eyes always so concerned about one thing or another, even if they tried to hide it.

He attracted brightness wherever he went: in the middle of the court, sweat glistening down his nape, in the thick of the crowd in a music festival, the glare of the stage lights making him look more charming than all the other times he’d worn the age-old college student uniform of a simple hoodie and jeans. 

“It isn’t connected to anything,” he defended to Jongin, who was all furtive glances and doubtful stares. “It’s normal. We’re just new, that’s all.”

“Suit yourself.” Jongin had shrugged. “But there’s something different about this one, hyung. It’s not like the others.”

He’d stood up and headed to class before Kyungsoo could ask him to explain.

Jongin was cryptic like that.

It had hit him during their first official fight—when they were only three months young—that Jongin was right.

It _was_ different.

Chanyeol failed to show up to a date yet again—after one too many excuses, Kyungsoo felt—of being too busy because of schoolwork.

He’d left Kyungsoo waiting for hours on top of a cold restaurant balcony. 

Left him to have dinner alone, to light the candlelights by himself, all the while feeling like an idiot too full of pity to get past the bitter taste on his tongue. 

When his feet were dragging themselves on the way home, Chanyeol had come running from down the street, dodging pedestrians, sneakers hitting the pavement, face red.

“Soo,” he’d reached out, “I’m so sorry—“

“I’m sorry too,” Kyungsoo had shook his head, avoiding his boyfriend’s attempts to reach him. It had to be different, because if it weren’t, Kyungsoo would have walked away, like all the other times he’d ended past attempts at something meaningful.

It had been happening to him too much lately, being stood up, and he remembers thinking why he’d actually gone and hoped that Chanyeol wouldn't.

“Wait, I know what it looks like, _hear me out, goddamnit.”_

Chanyeol had yanked him back, into the cage of his arms, and Kyungsoo didn’t even have the space to be angry.

Just shocked, wide eyes frozen, looking up at the breaths on Chanyeol’s lips, heavy pants tickling his hair.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he’d rushed, “you told me when we started—this. This whole thing. The best three months I’d ever—god, Soo, let me explain, please?”

That was the first time Kyungsoo had felt his resolve being truly tested; the first time he’d looked at Chanyeol’s nearly-crying face and wavered—

And actually gave in.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo said, monotone, still not being able to shake the feeling of being tricked, “okay then.”

Chanyeol had been roped into an unwilling music major collaboration, courtesy of the teacher they would soon hate.

Proof existed in pictures; videos that failed to send onto Kyungsoo’s phone because of the restaurant’s bad signal.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Chanyeol promised, “I swear.”

“This is the third date you’ve bailed on,” Kyungsoo had only sighed. He didn't have the space to be angry, but he would have preferred it; disappointment is so much heavier than anger.

“ _Third._ Is it so hard to send a text before you plan to cancel? Is it nice, Chanyeol? To know someone’s waiting?”

“Wait,” Chanyeol pleaded, “I didn’t mean to, that’s not what I’m thinking, I’m just genuinely stupid...“

“I’d appreciate it if you just tell me the truth,” Kyungsoo said, the words bitter and familiar.

Things with Luhan ended like this too.

“Are you leading me on? It's okay, Chanyeol. You’re allowed to say you don’t like me anymore. I’ll get over it.” 

“What?” Chanyeol had looked hurt. “ _No,_ why would I—that’s not even…”

He fumbled, grasping at straws in the air.

“I really like you Kyungsoo.” 

The words had pulled a derisive snort out of his throat, had Kyungsoo rolling his eyes. “But?”

“But nothing,” Chanyeol said, “I want this to work. You’re perfect. It’s just, I’m swamped with responsibilities right now—“

“I don’t want you to ignore what you need to do for me."

Kyungsoo had run a hand through his hair, training his gaze on the sidewalk.

"I just want a heads up when you’re busy, so I don’t look like an idiot that gets stood up in the same restaurant as he does every other week. This relationship is a responsibility too.”

“I know _,_ ” Chanyeol had grimaced, “but I have terrible time management, and just…”

“Fix it then,” Kyungsoo deadpanned, “you’re great and all—with looks to match—but I don’t intend on dating a child that can’t get his priorities straight.”

Kyungsoo had wasted too much time on men that wanted a mother instead of a boyfriend to do it again. 

Chanyeol had taken his hands, familiar with Kyungsoo’s somewhat harsh ways. “I’ll make it up to you right now. I know you just ate dinner, but there’s a cheesecake store a few blocks from here, they know me.”

He’d bitten his lip, looking unsure.

“If you’re not too tired, that is.” 

Kyungsoo had looked at his puppy eyes and wringing hands and thought, _might as well squeeze some cake out of him before things go to shit._

One hour, a cup of coffee, a hearty slice of cheesecake, and an accidental footsie later, Kyungsoo thought, _maybe one good fuck before things go to shit._

One excellent fuck of Kyungsoo not knowing which way was up and down while Chanyeol licked around his rim later, Kyungsoo thought, _maybe morning sex with that tongue before things go to shit._

One half-naked Chanyeol in an apron and the best after-sex omelette he'd ever had later, Kyungsoo stopped thinking. 

_two_

Seven months of Chanyeol proving himself has seen better days for both of them.

It took some time, but Chanyeol made good on his promises, treating Kyungsoo whenever he could and getting his act together for their dates.

They'd managed to stay together for seven months, and a weight settles on Kyungsoo's whenever the huge _what if_ of breaking up manages to flit through his mind. 

He knows it's dangerous to consider, but time colored by Chanyeol has been one of the best in his college life—and he knows it's because of his boyfriend's charm, the way he could make anything brighter if he wanted to.

They’re walking along the aisle, department-store lights casting a shine on his newly-dyed hair, when Chanyeol stops at the beddings section. 

“You should get them,” Kyungsoo says, seeing the question in the furrow of Chanyeol’s brows. “They look nice.”

Chanyeol hesitates. “Are they worth it?”

“Definitely," Kyungsoo nods. He's all too familiar with Chanyeol's penchant for holding back from getting things for himself. "We’ve been having sex on the same rounds of sheets for months now— _put those away right this instant._ ”

“They’re cute,” Chanyeol mumbles but pushes the Nick Wilde bedsheets back. “Besides, I don’t hear you complaining while my head’s between your legs.”

“I can’t complain precisely because your head’s between my legs. Do you even wash them after?”

“Of course I do!” Chanyeol looks affronted. “Who do you take me for? Baekhyun?”

“It’s always nice to have extra,” Kyungsoo pulls out some beige sheets, fluffy and expensive. “So you don’t rack up your water bill. Also, Baekhyun smells like baby powder.”

“You get close enough to other men to be able to smell them?” Chanyeol pulls back, exaggerated hurt on his face.

A hand even makes it way over his heart.

Kyungsoo shakes his head the slightest bit, his boyfriend's antics just another part of the agreement he'd had to sign when he was with him. 

“I can’t take it, are you cuddling up to them too, why must you betray me like this—”

“Stop it Yeol,” Kyungsoo laughs, “you’re embarrassing me.”

Chanyeol pulls him into a hug, comically tight.

They look ridiculous, especially in the middle of other customers just trying to get pillowcases, but what is Chanyeol for if not to make other people think you’re stupid in public? 

“Do you hug Baekhyun like this too?”

“Yes," Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol yelps, releasing his hold after a particularly straying pinch down his pants.

“But he doesn’t get hit as much after. Only my boyfriend gets that privilege.”

“Aren’t there better privileges to being your boyfriend?” 

He grabs a set from the shelf and casually places it over his crotch, wary.

Kyungsoo walks over to the comforters. “I suck your dick.”

“The correct answer was 'I’m your boyfriend, that’s the biggest privilege there is', then I’d agree because you’d be right.” 

“Disgustingly sappy,” Kyungsoo hums, puling another set to the growing collection in his arms, this time navy blue. “These ones are good too. Do you like them?”

“I’d be suspicious about the whole thing if I didn’t know this was an investment in your future, you cover-stealing demon.”

“Our future then,” Kyungsoo says, taking the sample sheets out to look at thread counts and materials and other things Chanyeol usually skips over. “Shouldn’t it mean that I plan to spend more nights in your bed?” 

For a second, Chanyeol blinks, taking the words in. 

“Foul,” he complains, “that's—that’s a foul, my heart hurts.”

“I’m paying. I don’t treat you enough.” 

“You’re going to make me cry,” Chanyeol, six-foot-tall, captain ball for their university’s basketball team, goes to the gym every week Chanyeol, whines. 

The syllables catch at the end, making Kyungsoo raise his head in concern and confusion. 

“Wait, really?”

“To be honest with you,” Chanyeol wipes at his eyes, “it started as a joke, but I think I got too into it.”

That has Kyungsoo laughing for real, soft and exasperated, taking one and whacking it across his arm.

"Hey!"

“Dork.”

Chanyeol puts up a fight about Kyungsoo paying, but in the end, it's Kyungsoo that gets his way.

When they make it to his apartment, Kyungsoo helps him set his new sheets onto his bed, taking the liberty of sucking his boyfriend dry in the shower purely based on the assumption that if he did then they wouldn’t get cum on their new sheets. 

“I’d like to sleep in them smelling nice,” Kyungsoo wipes off the corner of his mouth. He sighs into Chanyeol’s kiss, slow and languid amidst the steam. 

His efforts prove to be useless.

He should’ve seen it coming when Chanyeol had his blanket laid out on top of the navy blue fish designs they’d decided on.

Kyungsoo snaps his eyes open at the sudden weight on top of him, the tongue darting out to taste his neck.

His boyfriend’s legs cage his own, bearing down, a tightness pressing down the sides of his hips. 

“Chanyeol,” he whines, feeling his waistband being stretched, “how the hell are you still horny?”

“Wanna make you come,” Chanyeol bites on his shoulder, making Kyungsoo shiver, “wanna hear you fall apart.” 

Kyungsoo’s resolve has so far been putting up a fairly good fight, mumbling protests against Chanyeol’s mouth.

“ _These are new sheets_. I didn’t deepthroat you for nothing.” 

“You’ve been the best to me lately,” Chanyeol laughs into the kiss, deep and throaty. “‘S not going to be anything about me, Soo. You know it won’t.”

“We just came from the s-shower—” Kyungsoo stutters when he feels traitor hands on his nipples, twisting and skimming. 

“What do you want, Soo?” Chanyeol whispers, in the way that hinted at him knowing just what kind of fight he’ll be putting up, touching him between his thighs, squeezing ever so slightly with his legs, making him painfully hard. “Tell me.” 

Kyungsoo moans into the pillows, familiar fingers breaking down what little resolve he has left. 

There was always something _raw_ about Chanyeol, even when they’d first started out, something about him wanting to see Kyungsoo writhe and gasp and beg under his control, a power trip that Kyungsoo would never complain about riding, especially when he knows that sometimes, _sometimes_ , Chanyeol would only be in it for the pleasure he’d cause and nothing else. 

“Color,” Chanyeol gruffs out, sucking marks into Kyungsoo’s collarbone, pressing down too near his dick to be anything but maddening, and that’s when Kyungsoo gives up. “I need to hear it.”

To hell with the sheets.

Might as well christen them. 

“G-green,” Kyungsoo groans, the word having Chanyeol pull his sweatpants off, his hands tracing subtle lines of fire on his legs, between his cheeks, _everywhere but his dick_ , “this is so stupid.”

“What is?” Chanyeol says, before peppering his chest with kisses, each one having him melt more and more into the mattress. His hips stutter into Chanyeol’s front, looking for friction—Kyungsoo is met with a hand, caging him, pinning him down.

Kyungsoo swallows, biting back a whine.

He knows what game Chanyeol is going to play for tonight, but that doesn't mean he's going to take all of his rules to heart. 

“Less talking,” Kyungsoo tries to goad, slipping his eyes shut when fingers start narrowing in on around his hole, letting Chanyeol ravage his lips, “more fucking.”

“You know it won’t work that way,” Chanyeol laughs, sending vibrations down Kyungsoo’s chest, and Chanyeol’s drinking him in like he’s drunk, having Kyungsoo slowly slip into a headspace filled with Chanyeol’s cherry scent and his heavy hands and the desperation he wants so much. 

“Tell me what’s stupid.”

“I don’t—” Kyungsoo’s breath hitches when Chanyeol breaks away and reaches down to massage his balls, “I don’t know—can’t fucking focus—”

“Try, baby,” Chanyeol’s one hand migrates to his throat, pressing down in short bursts that leave Kyungsoo just on the edge of his breaths, eyes glazed. “Go on.”

“When you…” Kyungsoo does try, but what he’s trying to say ends up strangled; Chanyeol’s tongue is now elsewhere—just how fast can he move—licking stripes across the inside of his thighs, blowing air into his hole. 

Each ministration screams of familiarity: seven months with Chanyeol has him pliant, _edged,_ because here is someone that knows where to push his buttons a little too much, what to do to string him out until he’s begging with promises of things that seem to just fly out of his mouth unfiltered. 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo whines, “Chanyeol, please.”

Chanyeol hums, tongue sending a spark that has Kyungsoo arching as it teases his hole. A finger dips down, right to knuckle, stretching.

“I haven’t even started yet. Tell you what.”

Kyungsoo has no warning; his senses narrow down to the mouth on his cock, Chanyeol’s lips looking _filthy_ wrapped around his dick, that damned tongue swirling around his head, his boyfriend’s hair between his fingers, delicious heat licking its way up Kyungsoo’s spine, finally, _finally_ , getting attention—

Chanyeol pulls away, and Kyungsoo has no choice but to cry out at the emptiness, no choice but to snap his eyes back open to the cold air, back to his own body.

“Why don’t you think about why all of this is stupid,” Chanyeol walks over to his nightstand, still fully clothed, “and I’ll let you come.” 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo blinks, knowing better than to touch himself when his boyfriend gets like this, “I—please—”

“Begging this early won’t help you,” Chanyeol’s voice cuts through the room. Kyungsoo watches with heavy eyes as Chanyeol brings out the lube and a remote controlled, vibrating dildo.

It isn’t going to be about Chanyeol tonight. 

Chanyeol places both items beside him, and Kyungsoo leans into Chanyeol’s lips, sharply aware of the cotton shirt rubbing against his bare chest. 

“You’re so beautiful, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol slides his hands on his back, and there isn’t anything but his clothing between them, nothing but heat and the press of Chanyeol’s body, “so beautiful like this.” 

There’s no chance to talk, because Chanyeol is stealing the breath from his lungs and planting fire down his body. Two lubed fingers slip in this time, scissoring inside him, fluttering past his walls, and Kyungsoo feels like he’s on a different kind of edge, sinking deeper and deeper, just like how Chanyeol wants it. 

“Make you feel good,” the other hand goes down, down to his hips, harsh and bruising, because that’s the only safe place where Kyungsoo doesn’t mind his strength, “you want that?” 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo breathes, “ _h_ _urry up._ ” 

“Impatient." Kyungsoo doesn’t even process lube cap being popped open again, because those are three of Chanyeol’s _fingers,_ there’s wetness on his cock, tongue roving the tip, he’s so goddamned sensitive he cries out, twisting on the blanket, keening when they settle on his prostate, _massaging,_ stroking a need into his veins—

When Chanyeol leaves him to emptiness a second time, Kyungsoo almost sobs. 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo whispers, “please, please, please.”

“Oh, my beautiful baby,” Chanyeol shushes. Kyungsoo’s words escape him—a few more strokes and Kyungsoo melts, his knees opening wider. He feels like he’s on a hair-trigger, but that might just be the hunger simmering in his gut, a dull throb coming from his ignored cock. "Relax.”

“That’s it,” Chanyeol adds another finger into him, and Kyungsoo _keens_ , getting him ready, letting him adjust. “Sing for me, Kyungsoo.” 

“Chan—yeol—” The fingers thrust into him, stretching, knuckles catching on his rim, pumping in, out, in, out, always just shy of his prostate, always _almost there_ , and the frustration has him letting go of the blankets, letting them roam to his dick—

“Baby,” Chanyeol slaps his hand away and bears down on his prostate at the same time, and the stimulation has Kyungsoo whimpering, a jolt going through his starved system, “are you tired of the game? Should I stop?”

“N-no, Chanyeol, please,” Kyungsoo cries out, biting his bottom lip, groaning as Chanyeol picks up the pace, “ _ah,_ god, yes, _fuck_ —”

Chanyeol is continuous in his assault, _they’re not what he wants_ , but Kyungsoo will take anything at this point, will focus on how _good_ Chanyeol makes him feel, how much deeper it’s sending him to oblivion, and he’s so high-strung that he doesn’t take notice of the pattern—

When Chanyeol leaves him to air for the third time, he begs. 

“Chan _yeol_ ,” the last syllable is drawn out, carrying his desperation, he _needs_ his cock, needs to be filled, _needs_ to come, “Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol.” 

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

Kyungsoo watches through tear-stained eyes as Chanyeol slathers lube on the dildo, knowing full well what’s about to come, the two paths he could take. 

“It’s stupid how I’m— _fuck, Chanyeol_ —” 

Kyungsoo’s cock jumps when the dildo pushes in, taking him apart with every inch. It feels _amazing._ He wishes it were enough. 

“Please,” he begs, eyes brimming with unshed tears, sucking in a breath when Chanyeol reaches for his own hands, pinning them above his head. “More.” 

“You’re doing so well,” Chanyeol kisses him, eyes blown wide, and Kyungsoo finally notices the hardness poking at his legs, wants it inside him, wants it to wreck him. “All you have to do is continue the sentence.”

Chanyeol had told him once, how he loved breaking him down to a mess. How he loved to see Kyungsoo unravel as he held onto the last threadbare line of his coherency. 

“It’s stupid how weak I am for you,” Kyungsoo whimpers out, eyes closing again when Chanyeol ties his hands to the frame, “stupid how all you have to do is kiss me—a-and I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?” 

Kyungsoo hears the remote being fiddled with, the imprint of his hands still burned into his wrists. The dildo starts a pace, and if Kyungsoo sinks deep enough, he can imagine it’s Chanyeol’s cock, making his own spit out precum, the hunger flaring into a constant simmer of heat under his skin. 

“ _Anything,_ ” he nods, not really processing what it means, letting out a moan when Chanyeol lets the dildo hit his sensitive bundle of nerves. “Anything, Chanyeol, please.” 

“I want you to know you’re _mine,_ ” Chanyeol growls, and the toy rumbles to life inside him. 

“Chanyeol, _fuck, oh_ —” It’s not intense, but with how strung-out Kyungsoo is, it’s more than he could ever need, pleasure crashing into him with every pronounced twist of Chanyeol’s wrist into him. “Chan— _god, help me_ —” 

“I want you to hear you _scream_.” 

The dildo inside him picks up speed, and Kyungsoo fucking _wails_ , it’s too much, too quickly, but all he can think about is Chanyeol’s voice, the all-too fast tightening of the coil in his stomach, _yours,_ he mutters, over and over, slipping into mindlessness, the words flowing together with his moans, _all yours, fuck me, I need to come Chanyeol, please Chanyeol, enough Chanyeol, please make me come Chanyeol, I’ll do anything, Chanyeol_ —

“I want to break you,” Chanyeol kisses him, rough and heady. Kyungsoo can’t think, can’t even focus on his lips, just moan after moan leaving his mouth. The coil is beginning to unfurl, Chanyeol's thrusts constantly making him see stars. “Just like this.”

“Make—make me yours,” Kyungsoo fucks himself back on the dildo, rocking on what little leverage he can, chasing after release, “to-touch me, please, Chanyeol—”

Chanyeol’s hand wraps around his cock, thumb flicking over the head, and Kyungsoo arches, the extra stimulation making him mewl uncontrollably, barely able to get past the callouses on his fingers, the way he pumps up and down having Kyungsoo babble his name like it’s the only words he knows.

His thighs are trembling from bridging up against Chanyeol’s weight, legs shuddering as Chanyeol pumps the dildo even faster, sets the vibration even stronger, and Kyungsoo feels like he’s at the edge of the sea, waves of pleasure slamming into him, leaving him breathless; 

“Chanyeol,” he manages, barely getting the syllables out, “I-I-I—”

“Yes, Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol continues his assault, fucking the sense out of him, “what is it, baby?” 

“Please.” He’s nearly there. “Please.” 

“Come on then,” Chanyeol lets go of his dick, and he almost cries at the loss, but he doesn’t have time, because the dildo grows even more intense than before. “Come for me.” 

He goes back up and grabs Kyungsoo’s jaw—claiming his mouth, drinking him down, and it’s all Kyungsoo needs.

"For you, _hnng, fuck,_ Chanyeol!"

His pleasure reaches a peak, slamming him into a high as the coil in his gut releases, and he’s spilling in a puddle over his chest, tumbling over the edge with a broken moan that's half curse and half Chanyeol's name, hips stuttering, Chanyeol milking him through his orgasm.

Kyungsoo winces, a sound of overstimulation coming past his lips as Chanyeol slowly pulls the dildo out.

Kyungsoo sighs, hole clenching and unclenching like it still wants to be filled, but he knows he’s spent. The binds on his wrists come off. 

“You were amazing,” Chanyeol assures, peppering his body with his kisses, tracing his neck, massaging his hips. “So amazing for me.” 

Kyungsoo looks down on the bulge down Chanyeol’s own sweatpants. 

“No,” Chanyeol smiles at him, and Kyungsoo wants to live in it, “I’m okay. I’ll take care of it. I know you’re tired.” 

He makes a half-hearted attempt to protest, lids heavy. 

Chanyeol chuckles, connecting their lips softly this time, the hand on his jaw gentle. “Wait for me, alright?” 

He’s drifting off when he feels a warm cloth, just on the edge of hot, glide across his stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Down his thighs, across his chest, pulling him back to his own body. 

He’s lifted off the bed, feels the blanket being pulled out from under him. 

Clothes come next; his sweatpants, his shirt, smelling freshly-washed.

Chanyeol settles in beside him. He can barely keep his eyes open, but there are his lips again, and god, he might never get tired of those lips—landing across his mouth, his brows.

“You were amazing,” Chanyeol repeats into the night, and Kyungsoo doesn’t know how long it’s been, “so perfect.”

“Mmh,” Kyungsoo tries, reaching out. There’s a new blanket draped over his shoulders, reminding him of the detergent he always uses. If he couldn't have Chanyeol a while ago, he'll have him now, have his weight press beside him, have his presence like a cocoon. 

He reaches for his boyfriend, pouting. “Wanna cuddle, Yeol.” 

“Of course,” his boyfriend laughs, the sound like molten honey rumbling through Kyungsoo’s chest, “of course.” 

  
  


_three_

For their second-year anniversary, Chanyeol takes him to the Sanbangsan flower fields.

They have a picnic a little ways away from the main clearing. The spring breeze goes through Chanyeol’s hair, ruffling the leaves around them, making the whole field smell like apple blossoms.

He sees Chanyeol try to stifle his grin at a kid that tripped further down the small hill they sat atop—the asshole that he is—and Kyungsoo has an inexplicable urge to kiss him; to taste his laughter and drink it in like it was his own.

Now, his lips cruise against Chanyeol’s, soft, always soft, and while his boyfriend is taken by confusion more than surprise, he wastes no time obliging, deepening the kiss by carding his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair, palms coming to rest on his neck. 

Kyungsoo’s resolve had been tested so many times in the past year: arguments over which was best for the other; small decisions of forgiveness; Chanyeol’s seemingly selective hearing when it came for work breaks.

But this was by far the most intense battle he’d had.

And he’d lost so very spectacularly.

“I think I love you,” Kyungsoo says, not knowing how else to describe the spreading warmth in his chest whenever Chanyeol did anything—accumulations of tiny moments bursting forth in that second;

Chanyeol waiting an hour outside of his homeroom to pick him up after class, Chanyeol’s studio, their voices blending perfectly, Chanyeol’s hair, the black turning wavy in colder weather, how Chanyeol always makes sure to wear his gray hoodie to their study dates because Kyungsoo liked napping in them, the way they shouldn’t really matter, these little things, but right now they crash over him in pulses;

Chanyeol breaks the kiss, shock evident by the way he freezes.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Kyungsoo looks away, heat on his cheeks, “just—just so you know—I don’t—it’s perfectly okay if you don’t feel the same, I can wait—” 

Ever so slowly, a smile creeps up Chanyeol’s face. “I think I love you too, Do Kyungsoo.”

The kiss is innocent enough; gentle, like their confessions, slow and hesitant, a reflection of their relationship—but Chanyeol does a thing with his lips, and something had probably snapped, because Kyungsoo is straddling him, properly licking his tongue across the ridge of Chanyeol’s teeth, hands finding the underside of his shirt. 

He makes sure to look for heat, to tick Chanyeol off in all the right places, hands skimming his abs, his waistline. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol has a small warning in his voice, “babe, we’re in public.“

“No rules against making out,” Kyungsoo mutters, diving in again to capture Chanyeol’s taste against his. A well-placed lick to his pulse point, a soft bite to his bottom lip. 

“Mmmph,” Chanyeol tries to push him away, something poking at his thighs, “Kyungsoo, I’m—“

Kyungsoo grins. He sucks marks along his boyfriend’s neck, the boyfriend that loved him back, despite everything Kyungsoo was, the one groaning under his fingers—

“You’re going to kill me.”

“Come back from heaven for me, then.” 

“Mm,” Chanyeol says between kisses, “it’s a good thing you’re corny.”

“Why?”

“It makes it easier to see you aren’t perfect.” 

When Chanyeol gets into it—they were alone under an apple tree, fairly out of sight, an almost perfect spot—when Chanyeol starts to grind down, Kyungsoo explores a new part of his resolve, something that has mischief lacing his fingers,

He drinks down Chanyeol’s whimper, steels his nerves. 

Simply shoves Chanyeol off and starts packing their things, ignoring the tightening on both their pants, the shocked frustration on Chanyeol’s face sending him smiling.

He’d never tried to properly edge him before, at least not in public. 

“What,” Chanyeol swallows, eyes dilated, “what the hell?”

“Help me fix up,” Kyungsoo calls, innocent. “Unless you want more takoyaki?” 

“I want to fuck you.”

“I don’t think that’s advisable.“

All he hears is a growl, and suddenly, Chanyeol is pushing him down onto the blanket, palming him through his jeans.

He doesn't know why he'd expected Chanyeol to take it, and the lapse in judgment has him snorting at how dumb he is. Now they're going to be charged with public indecency, and it's going to be Kyungsoo's fault. 

“Wrong answer.”

Chanyeol makes quick work of Kyungsoo beneath him, cupping his face, knowing full well the effect his hands had on him, stroking his hips, just shy of where his arousal is coming from. 

Kyungsoo loses sight of his surroundings. His eyes glaze over, focus narrowing down to his boyfriend’s fingers, skimming the inside of his thighs—until everything comes rushing back.

There’s a smug smirk pulling at Chanyeol’s lips as he stares down on Kyungsoo, collecting their things the same way he did only a few minutes ago. 

“God,” Kyungsoo whines, sitting up, “Chan _yeol._ ” 

“Serves you right,” Chanyeol snorts, “I can’t believe I love a sneaky shit like you. Help me fix up. Unless you want more takoyaki?”

The painful hard-on was definitely worth the rough sex they had in the car, Kyungsoo spearing himself on Chanyeol’s dick hard enough to shake the seats.

_four_

Kyungsoo doesn’t know what defenses his resolve needs right now.

“Soo, please.”

Chanyeol is looking at him with his signature expression, holding out the fangs molded specially by Yixing. 

His special latex jacket hangs closely to his frame, eerie contact lenses and the one single stripe down his eye serving as his costume for this year’s Kim Junmyeon Sem-Ender Halloween party. 

The combination—paired with the raging pink hair—is distinctly Chanyeol in its level of effort; he’d needed weeks of careful salon sessions and boutique-hopping to achieve it. 

Kyungsoo's own leather jacket is tight across his shoulders. 

The costume is something his friends had been begging for him to wear, all because they had long grown tired of his bare minimum outfits to their parties.

“There’s no one to impress,” Kyungsoo had declined the first few days into their convincing, “besides, they’re used to me.” 

“It’s not about other people,” Baekhyun had pleaded as they were walking through the university oval, “it’s about you having fun.” 

“I have enough fun with you guys,” Kyungsoo had pouted, and a small part of him had been proud of how fast he’d gotten his friend to melt. “Why do I need to be in a costume to do it?”

“Because it’s a _costume party_ —you know what? Never mind. I’ll lose this conversation. I’m pulling the Chanyeol card. It’s either he succeeds or he doesn’t.” 

Their group of friends had been more and more aware of how his resolve weakened when it came to Chanyeol (albeit not in the way that mattered), using him to rope Kyungsoo into things he normally wouldn’t do. 

The gamble had paid off.

The look Chanyeol had given him when he’d opened the door to his unit was worth the struggle of pushing himself into the tight pants. 

There are certain lines, however, that are harder to cross than others. 

“No.”

“ _Soo._ ”

The choker was already in place. 

The leather pants secured around his legs, the almost unbuttoned blouse exposing his skin to cold autumn air. 

His eyeliner is subtle courtesy of pirate Byun Baekhyun, hair gelled up in a way that’s supposed to be unintentionally messy.

“Chanyeol, I swear to god.”

Why would he need fangs?

“It completes the look,” Chanyeol pouts, “please, Soo? Yixing worked really hard on them.”

“Why don’t you wear them then? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“I am a _demon_. Not a vampire.”

“Demons are allowed to have fangs.”

Kyungsoo almost thinks he wins. 

“Remember when you said I could call in a favor after I helped your mother build that bar?” 

Kyungsoo places a hand on his hip, texting Junmyeon. “Are you seriously using that for this? Are you sure you want to?”

"Please, Soo? For me?"

One lament at his crumbled resolve, a hasty blowjob brought on by Chanyeol wondering if they’d hurt, and a rushed hair fix-up later, Kyungsoo walks in Junmyeon’s mansion to appreciative hoots, leaning back onto Chanyeol’s chest behind him. 

Orange streamers litter the space, people holding glasses filled with spiked punch, traditional beef dishes splayed out on the table, autumn-themed drinks in pitchers on every conceivable corner. 

His boyfriend’s hand is casually snaked around his waist, the subtle possessiveness proving to be ineffective in the face of people’s appreciation for aesthetic. 

Kyungsoo hears him harrumph when people start coming by to “taste the gin”, going for the path passing the door instead, the detour absolutely unnecessary. 

“Kyungja!” Baekhyun calls, heading for them in a pirate’s hat. A billowy white blouse hangs loose on his body, the ties in front undone, teasing.

“My love, my everything, let me borrow your demon for a while. Seonho’s brought his new beer pong set, and I need someone on my team that can shoot.” 

Kyungsoo flashes his teeth for effect. 

Baekhyun has to lean in to combat the music being played through Junmyeon’s giant speakers, bass so heavy it travels through the floor and into Kyungsoo’s chest. 

“Do you have a lisp right now?”

“Nah.” Kyungsoo had been worried about that, but Yixing has them feeling like real teeth, no obstruction to speech whatsoever. “They’re small.”

“They’re hot,” Chanyeol winks, swooping down to plant his teeth on Kyungsoo’s neck in what Kyungsoo suspects to be a weak (and half-hearted) attempt at staving off the people giving him second glances.

“Wouldn’t mind letting sir vampire here take a bite.”

Baekhyun curls his nose, but they’re used to that, just as much as they’re used to him dragging Chanyeol away for whatever shenanigans they have planned. 

A parting kiss is almost tradition. 

They tended to steer towards different people during these things; Kyungsoo sticking to the calmer crowds (usually Minseok and Yixing) and Chanyeol latching onto Jongdae for trouble that the calmer crowd has to get them out of. 

When Chanyeol isn’t busy pulling whatever prank he’s come up with on their juniors though, he gravitates towards Kyungsoo, sometimes outright shouting into mics and speakers just to ask where he is.

“Don’t drink too much,” Kyungsoo mutters against his teeth. “We have that thing with your mom tomorrow.”

“Try to drink a little,” Chanyeol mumbles back. “She’ll cancel if you’re too hungover. You know how she is with you.”

"Come to me if you need to take your lenses out, okay?" 

"Thanks babe. Love you." 

Minseok is in the middle of a half-drunken aerodynamics session when he sees it. 

First years have dragged him within viewing distance from the couch, asking for a picture.

In the spirit of his character for the night, he flicks his tongue out, skimming it along his front teeth.

That should have been the end of it—they should have taken their little video and continued on drinking upside down from Junmyeon’s alcohol kegs—but they just _had_ to whistle, had to share a look amongst themselves, had to fuel Chanyeol’s praise-reward system.

Now Chanyeol won’t stop poking his stupid tongue out every chance he gets.

Paired with that demon costume and the slight buzz going through him, Kyungsoo’s resolve is tested for the second time that night.

“Might wanna fix that,” Minseok laughs, throwing a pillow between his legs, making him blink.

He has a tight grip on the arms of the couch, gaze loaded as it follows Chanyeol mingle around the room. 

“You look like you’re about to eat him.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Kyungsoo tries to salvage, but Minseok is already peeling himself off the couch, heading to where Baekhyun is. 

“Hyung—“

“Finish your punch, Kyungsoo,” he snickers, teasing in a way only Minseok can manage, “I’m not about to spout bullshit to someone with a boner.”

“Hyung,” Kyungsoo hides the heat on his cheeks with an ill-timed sip, and he’s sure it doesn’t work. 

That makes Minseok laugh even clearer, looking at him like he’s the most innocent thing in the world. “I’ll get him over here.” 

He isn’t sure he has the space to be embarrassed—his hindbrain is still going _chanyeol chanyeol chanyeol—_ but before he knows it, his boyfriend is striding towards him, a concerned etch to his brows. He looks so hot, the latex pants catching in all the right angles, striped turtleneck accentuating his neck. 

“You called, babe?” Chanyeol asks, sidling up next to him, “you wanna go home? I could wrap things up—“ 

He lets out a surprised squeak when Kyungsoo yanks him down, breath hot against the shell of his ear. 

“Keep pulling that shit with your tongue,” Kyungsoo whispers harshly, “and I’ll fucking rail you over the beer pong table.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen, blinking like he hadn’t heard right. He looks at Kyungsoo, looks down at the pillow Minseok had thrown, and a breezy grin crawls on his lips. 

He pats his thighs, gliding his tongue slower across his front teeth. 

As Kyungsoo settles on his lap, he blames the punch, blames the alcohol, even if the drink he’d gotten barely has a sip in damage. 

“You like it when I do that?” Chanyeol says, voice husky, arms looping around Kyungsoo’s neck.

Kyungsoo hums, diving into his boyfriend’s lips, almost hurried—he has no intention of doing anything too wild in public, but it’s been three hours and most of the night crowd’s gone home; only some of the other juniors and their close friend groups remained—and it was always a treat to makeout with Chanyeol. 

“Wish I’d discovered this when we first started,” Chanyeol sneaks in between kisses, “would’ve got you whipped for me more.” 

“Mm,” Kyungsoo tries, “you don’t know half of it.”

"Of what?"

"Of how whipped I am for you." 

Just when Kyungsoo is starting to slip into a soft headspace—eyes lidded, head filled with Chanyeol’s lips and hands and hardening cock—his boyfriend is ripped away from him, courtesy of two idiotic juniors. 

“Motherfuckers,” Kyungsoo glares.

His mouth comes up in a snarl; he forgets he has his fangs on, and Kyungsoo isn’t sure what part of him makes Jongin shrink.

“What the hell are you doing?” 

Chanyeol still hasn’t recovered: shaking his head at Sehun, who is now dragging him to the very same beer pong table Kyungsoo had threatened to fuck him over. 

“Baekhyun-hyung made us do it!” Jongin runs, “he says Chanyeol-hyung has to help him beat Seonho!” 

Kyungsoo is left with no choice but to stare after them, the guilty look on his boyfriend’s face only lifting when he sees Kyungsoo smile and wave for him to do what he has to do.

He sighs and makes for the bathroom. 

_five_

“Okay, times up!”

It's another hour since his failed makeout session—Kyungsoo and Minseok are by snacks on the counter, talking about the professor they hate, when their friends stumble into the kitchen. 

Their noise cuts through the ambiance he and Minseok have set up, but part of being the relegated damage control team of their group means you get used to things like this anyway. 

“Get out! Thank you for coming!” Junmyeon calls, and if it weren’t for the giant draped over his back, trying to attack his cheeks, Kyungsoo would’ve taken him seriously. 

“Party’s over! If I find anyone having sex _anywhere_ , I’ll take a picture of your naked asses and—mmph—Sehun, baby, I’m trying to—” 

He's silenced when Sehun finally realizes he can turn, and is now blocking Junmyeon’s mouth with his. 

Kyungsoo is sure he and Minseok are the only ones near sober.

Baekhyun is clinging to Jongin’s neck like it’s the only thing keeping him up (which is probably exactly what’s happening); Yixing is dancing to a beat nobody should ever hear, Jongdae is singing like his cat died, and Chanyeol—

Chanyeol crashes into his chest, almost toppling the both of them into Junmyeon's special glasses brought in from China. 

Kyungsoo brings his hands on his middle, trying to steady him, but just as quickly, his hands are slapped away, and he watches Chanyeol sway by himself before gripping the counter. 

“Fuck off,” he points a finger at Kyungsoo, “don’t touch me.” 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo reaches, “babe, what’s wrong? Is there a problem?” 

“The problem,” Chanyeol slurs, looking every bit as angry as a drunk person can manage, “is you touching me like that.” 

“What?”

“In case your dumbass didn’t know,” Chanyeol hisses, “I have a boyfriend _._ In case your dumbass did and tried things with me anyway, you can _fuck off_.” 

Kyungsoo’s not sure if he should be worried or amused. Chanyeol’s never done this in the span of their relationship before. 

Minseok decides for him—snorting before sauntering up to Chanyeol, tracing a hand along his arm. 

Which could very well end in two ways.

“And who is this boyfriend?” Minseok asks, looking up through his lashes. 

“Do Kyungsoo.” 

Maybe one way.

Kyungsoo can’t help the stupid fluttering in his chest, can’t help the exasperated-but-fond laugh rushing out of his lips. 

Chanyeol’s hair is bombarded with some type of powder, latex jacket rumpled in his hands, cheeks as red as the cherries he’s named after, barely able to speak properly, and his first priority is to make sure he doesn’t cheat on him. 

“Is he really worth it?” Minseok tries a last time. 

Chanyeol scowls. 

“He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he answers, syllables mixing together, and _shit_ if it doesn’t feel like something’s reached inside Kyungsoo’s heart and _squeezed,_ “and I have no intention of hurting him.”

"Damn perfect," Kyungsoo says to himself. "I lucked out." 

“Now,” Chanyeol pushes Minseok away, _“Fuck. Off._ ”

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo clears his throat, and he knows he’ll never get tired of the way his face lights up when Chanyeol sees him, “I’m right here babe. Party’s over. Let’s go home.” 

“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol rushes to him, switching from angry to baby, “I missed you!”

Kyungsoo grunts when he gets an arm-full of Chanyeol, almost having them tumble over _again,_ bearing both their weights, rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe. 

“Kyungsooooo,” Chanyeol whines, holding him tighter, “Kyungsoo, where did you go? Someone came up to me and—and—” 

Oh _no._ Kyungsoo knows that voice. A drunk Chanyeol will already be hard enough to deal with.

But a crying Chanyeol? 

“Hey, no, don’t—it’s okay Chanyeol, I saw, don’t worry.”

“I— _hic_ —” goddamned hiccups starting, “—I told them you were my boyfriend, but—but—”

“I saw babe, I watched.” Kyungsoo pulls back, seeing everyone quietly staring to whatever degree their drunkenness allows them, but they’ve been watching their relationship for three years now.

It would be nothing they hadn’t seen before, and besides: Kyungsoo has bigger problems—six foot tall ones. 

“That was Minseok, alright? He was just messing with you.”

“ _Nooooo,_ ” Chanyeol buries his head in his neck, reeking of soju, and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, preparing himself, “no, I don’t care, Kyungsoo I—” 

He grimaces at the bitter taste in his mouth, now on his own, kissing his boyfriend just to shut him up, however heart-wrenchingly cute his rambling is.

“I know babe,” Kyungsoo assures, “I heard you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too.” 

“Really?” Chanyeol’s bottom lip quivers, and _why was there no winning with him?_

“Don’t cry,” Kyungso shushes, “don’t cry. You get clingy when you cry, and when you get clingy you get handsy, and I have to drive us back to your apartment—”

“I just want your cuddles,” Chanyeol’s eyes shine, “is that too annoying? Is it too much for you? Am I too much for you—”

“Goddamn it,” Kyungsoo cuts him off again, making sure to have his words go past the haze Chanyeol is working with. “Never. You’re never too much to me. Never have, never will.” 

“But—you said—” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Minseok declares, cutting between the both of them, “I can’t stomach any more of this.” 

It sets off a series of complaints from their other friends, ranging from _three years of this bullshit_ to _I want what they have (_ coupled with a threatening _you already have what they have, but we can always change that)._

Minseok loops his arms around Chanyeol, helping Kyungsoo support his weight, and with hasty goodbyes, they manage to wrangle a now-giggly Chanyeol to the passenger seat.

“Keep him,” Minseok says as he turns back towards the house. 

There are vague screams of Baekhyun declaring his love for Jongin, and Jongdae turning the yard into a karaoke room. 

Kyungsoo feels guilty for leaving him alone to the wolves, but there was that appointment with his mom….

“Not everyone has what the both of you worked for.”

“Don’t worry hyung,” Kyungsoo turns the keys into ignition, feeling the rumble of the engine. “I’m never letting him go. Good luck with the mess.” 

“I’m used to you guys anyway. Drive safe, Kyungsoo.”

The highway is silent, save for the occasional rev of a motorbike flying past them. The lamplights provide a yellow glow to the streets, the metal of closed shops rushing by.

They’re at a stoplight when he feels something land on his dick. 

Kyungsoo winces when his knee slams into the steering wheel, whipping his head to Chanyeol trying to climb his way into the driver’s seat. 

“Chanyeol—what the hell—”

“Soo,” Chanyeol whines, low and barely coherent, “I need you. Been looking at your choker for hours.” 

“And I need to focus,” Kyungsoo pushes his hand away, ignoring the heat in his cheeks, “in case you didn’t notice.” 

He hears the click of a seatbelt, rough hands tracing his thighs. 

He does his best to ignore it, even lasting as long as Chanyeol unzipping his pants and stroking him through an intersection. 

But his boyfriend’s thumb glides over the slit, and he starts feeling sparks through his spine. 

“Fuck,” he curses, trying to maneuver his hips out of the way, “Chanyeol!”

Unfortunately, Chanyeol only takes it as a sign to do more, having his mouth dive down to Kyungsoo’s lap—

“Okay, that’s _enough_ ,” Kyungsoo grits out, pulling over, feeling a throb in his groin, “I don’t want us driving into a wall.”

He pushes Chanyeol off, but it only takes a second before Chanyeol comes back and _licks_. Kyungsoo has to shove a fist into his mouth to muffle his moan. 

No matter how weak he is for Chanyeol, he isn’t keen on sleeping by the side of the street tonight, especially not with his boyfriend smelling like vomit and alcohol. 

“This is a record,” Kyungsoo groans, feeling his resolve being tested for the third time that night, “Chanyeol—god—quit it. Red, babe. _Red.”_

Immediately, Chanyeol’s hands pull back, eyes wide in a drunken stupor, panic etched into the browns and blacks of his irises. 

“I’m sorry, did you not want—”

There's a comforting irony in there somewhere: how Chanyeol will recognize their system even when he's shit-drunk, but also him being too drunk to realize why. 

Kyungsoo bears the kiss this time, making sure to be gentle. 

“No,” he murmurs against his jaw, all sweat and apprehension, “no. It’s just—we’re in the car, babe. _I’m driving._ You can wait until the apartment, right? You’ll be a good boy?” 

He watches Chanyeol’s eyes dilate, and he almost thinks he’s got him—

“Don’t wanna be a good boy,” Chanyeol mutters, claiming his neck, and Kyungsoo huffs a breath out as he gives Chanyeol access. “Want you _now,_ Soo.” 

“Babe,” Kyungsoo tries again, “baby. I’m driving, you’re drunk, we’re still far from your apartment.”

He doesn’t know why he bothers to try explaining when Chanyeol is like this; he rarely ever gets this drunk, rarely ever goes through all the phases alcohol has him being—just how much did Baekhyun make him drink?

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol whines again, “Kyungsoo, please.”

He softens, and even now, even when he’s being difficult like this, Kyungsoo can’t bring himself to be angry, can’t find the irritation that he’d have if it would have been literally anyone else.

Just a fondness, so powerful it makes him ignore his sweaty, demanding, horny, boyfriend. 

“Why don’t we take this to the back, then?” he says, voice low. “You want that? Get you laid out properly.” 

The words take a second to register, but Chanyeol nods, scrambling out of the passenger seat.

Kyungsoo almost chases after him when he stills outside the car door, almost as if contemplating where to go, but he takes his place at the back of the car, looking at Kyungsoo expectantly. 

Kyungsoo shakes his head, doing the same. 

He peppers Chanyeol with kisses, along his ear, pulling down his turtleneck—and massaging his waist. 

His boyfriend is barely responding, and he knows he’ll have hell to pay in the form of carrying a knocked out six-footer up his apartment unit, but he can’t reach the problem if they curve and get into an accident because Chanyeol has him coming in the seat. 

Besides. If Chanyeol was drunk enough to switch that fast between emotions, then that would mean going down a very probable possibility. 

“I love you,” Kyungsoo says, meaning every word, “love you so much, Yeol.”

“Love you too.” Chanyeol closes his eyes, lips going slacker by the second, sighing as Kyungsoo's fingers knead into the flesh of his side, soothing. “God, I—I love you too.”

“That’s it,” Kyungsoo pushes him into the side, letting his head fall against the corner. “That’s it.”

It takes a few more lazy kisses, but Chanyeol's breathing slows down, relaxing into a light sleep. 

“Thank the gods,” Kyungsoo mutters, pressing his lips one last time to his cheek. 

Kyungsoo checks the rearview mirror more often than he’d like: Chanyeol’s head is laid on the window, pink hair soft and curling in the cold night wind.

The trek up the unit is made easier by the security guard taking pity on him. 

He deposits Chanyeol on the couch, running the shower to get the water hot.

He rummages through his closet for clothes, pulling out an old western rock band shirt and shorts for Chanyeol, and lays them out on the bed. 

Between fetching a towel and going back to the living room, Chanyeol wakes up, making the act of stripping him until all that’s left are his boxers marginally easier.

He won't stop trying to convince Kyungsoo of how he'd beaten Baekhyun in that drinking game, and Kyungsoo grumbles about he was the one that lost. 

He stays sleepy (but thankfully conscious) throughout brushing their teeth, their shower—”save water,” Kyungsoo had muttered as he stepped in with him—and the one-sided struggle to get him into his sleep clothes.

It had been a battle getting Chanyeol out of his leather pants, but his shorts somehow presented a greater challenge, specially since he was tilting too far into Kyungsoo’s arms to be anything short of infuriating.

(Kyungsoo ends up pushing him onto the bed and putting on his clothes from there.)

Kyungsoo comes from the shower to Chanyeol, properly snuggled into the pillows, hands fanning the other side of the bed. 

Like he was looking for someone. 

The sheets are cool, smelling like cherry preserves and Chanyeol; Kyungsoo yelps when he’s pulled flush beside him, (he suspects an undiscovered manhandling kink, it's been happening too much where Chanyeol suddenly drags him across the bed), shirt so thin that if Kyungsoo concentrates hard enough, he can feel his heartbeat through the fabric. 

“Missed you,” Chanyeol mutters against his forehead, “missed you so much.” 

Kyungsoo chuckles in his arms, reaching to push back a stray pink strand of hair that’s made it across his eyes. “It takes me five minutes to do my skincare.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chanyeol slurs, the hold of sleep made even stronger when Kyungsoo starts running circles in the flesh above the side of his waist. “Missed you. Thank you for taking care of me. Loveyousomuch.” 

“Go to sleep, Yeol,” Kyungsoo shushes.

Chanyeol’s breathing evens out, arms going loose across Kyungsoo’s back. 

It’s these moments—these silent pockets of space—that Kyungsoo always finds himself wrecked by Chanyeol; his mouth is opened the slightest bit, eyes darting behind closed lids, and he’s long past the point of wondering how he manages to find him more and more beautiful every chance he gets.

“I love you,” Kyungsoo whispers, fond, purely for his own ears, “even if you’re the biggest dork I know.” 

“Love you too,” Chanyeol mumbles right after. “Even if you insult me when you think I’m asleep.”

_plus one_

Chanyeol wakes up to one of the most intense headaches he’d ever experienced in the entirety of his college career. 

The small beam of light making it through the curtains sends a spike of pain up the back of his head. He winces through the better part of ten minutes, silently cursing the sun and the goddamned birds chirping outside his window. 

The world is too bright, too loud, and much too annoying. 

The clock on his nightstand reads 7:46 AM, red glare almost mocking in its stability. There are three blue pills ready for him beside a cold glass of water. 

The space beside him is empty, and no matter his agenda against the world, Chanyeol can set it aside to look for Kyungsoo. 

He manages to pad over to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, retching a bit into the sink, then to the kitchen, shirt rucked up, hair flying every which way, eyes blurry and unfocused. 

He smells Kyungsoo’s stew though, and if that doesn’t make him weep—then the sight of him in his hoodie and just boxers definitely will. 

“How are you so perfect,” he settles his head in the crook of his neck, a movement as familiar as their kisses.

“Good morning. Did we have sex last night?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “We were both too tired, Yeol.”

“That’s good, because if we did and I didn’t remember, I’d never forgive myself.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, sighing into his warmth. "Did you take the painkillers I set for you?"

"Yeah," Chanyeol leans to press a kiss against his cheek, the smoke from the pan setting off a grumbling in his stomach. "Thank you." 

“I asked to cancel with your mom,” Kyungsoo says, not taking his eyes off the kimchi rice, “she said it’s okay and you should rest up.”

“Of course she did,” Chanyeol places kiss number two on Kyungsoo’s cheek, “she manages to love me more when you advocate for it.” 

Breakfast is uneventful—Minseok has uploaded all photos to their groupchat, the majority of which commenting on how hot Kyungsoo was.

“That choker had me by the neck,” Chanyeol says, allowing the heat of the soup to ground him. “And the fangs. When did you take them off?” 

“After we made out on the couch.” Kyungsoo scrolls through his feed, huffing at their friend’s antics. “They were getting distracting. Also, Yixing's planning to use the pictures when he wants a favor from you.”

"You had a photoshoot in your vampire costume?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. "It was fun." 

"When Yixing has me doing something stupid, I want you to remember that it's your fault."

"Mmh." 

Minseok and Jongdae confessed (about time), Junmyeon hasn’t logged in yet, and Jongin went on a rant about how pretty Baekhyun’s hair was (he’d permed it for the party).

They sleep in for most of the hours heading into lunch.

Chanyeol spends the nap not thinking about anything else but Kyungsoo’s presence beside him, how he’d probably die without it (he always tended to be dramatic), and how adorable his bedhead was. 

Lunch is as uneventful as breakfast—the delivery boy is startled to see Kyungsoo in boxers, almost dropping their food. They watch a Marvel movie and argue about it while eating in takeout boxes, switching food and tasting dishes Chanyeol had been hesitant to try. 

Chanyeol wakes up for the third time that day to see Kyungsoo on his phone, laughing at some video on twitter. 

The events of the night before had slowly started to creep up on him this morning, but now, he remembers how much power his tongue had over Kyungsoo, so he pushes himself up, pouting on Kyungsoo’s lap until he notices. 

“Yes?” 

Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo’s lips, skimming a tongue over his own front teeth. He stares through heavy eyes, a question in the fingers slowly coming to graze over his waistband. 

Kyungsoo beats him to it. 

He places his phone to the side, lips grazing Chanyeol’s at first, then slowly becoming more intense, hungrier. 

A stray hand sends fleeting touches all over his body—Kyungsoo scratches and nips, squirming against him until their cocks line up against each other, sending slow waves of arousal through the both of them. 

“Wanna fuck you,” Chanyeol mutters, hastily shedding his shorts, “looking so perfect in my hoodie like that.”

“Mm.” Kyungsoo pulls him down, tasting him in other places, sucking marks on his neck. There’s a smile at the edge of his lips, “not what you were saying last night.”

“And what was I saying last night?” 

“W-when you said you’d be a good boy,” Kyungsoo mewls when Chanyeol suddenly takes a hold of him, pumping leisurely at a pace that might as well have said he had all the time in the world.

Each downwards movement is a small spark in between his legs, building, adding to the growing tightness in his gut, Chanyeol doesn’t stop until precum beads on the tip, doesn’t relent until Kyungsoo’s face is flushed red and he’s arching into thin air. 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo breathes. “Chanyeol.”

“Color.”

“Green.” Kyungsoo's lips part in anticipation, “fuck me.” 

Chanyeol swoops down to capture a full bottom lip in his mouth, drinking in his breaths, scorching across his throat. His other hand reaches for the lube, cold coating his fingers. 

“Gotta stretch you.” He has one massage around his rim, waiting, building. “Get you ready for my cock.”

Kyungsoo’s knees fall open, hips bucking when Chanyeol blows hot air on the head, licking across the length. 

Another finger adds to the first, just on the right side of teasing. If he isn’t careful, Kyungsoo could come just like this; more beads of precum pooling and dripping down his dick. 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo pants, “Chanyeol, please.”

When Kyungsoo starts to beg is always when Chanyeol starts to lose it—when the painful pressure on his own cock makes itself known and he wants to have Kyungsoo scream nonsense as he’s fucked well and good. 

“Please what?” His hole finally relaxes enough for him to slip two lubed fingers in; slow, because seeing Kyungsoo writhe is one of the best privileges he’d ever had, but also because he doesn’t want to hurt him. “Tell me, Kyungsoo.”

“F-fuck me,” he says, voice hitching when Chanyeol starts thrusting in, “stretch me— _ah_ —with your cock, want more— _please_ —until I can’t talk properly, I need— _god, yes_ —please—”

“Just a little more,” Chanyeol promises, adding a third digit. Kyungsoo shuts his eyes, rocks back on Chanyeol’s fingers, trying to fuck himself on what is clearly not enough. 

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” Kyungsoo moans, broken, already slipping into the static of movement inside him, hips growing more relentless as they buck up. “Chanyeol, _please._ ”

Chanyeol reaches down to kiss him again, and it’s like Kyungsoo is trying to eat him. He sucks hungrily across his lips, pulling him down in search of the friction he’s been craving, rubbing their cocks together and sending jolts through Chanyeol’s legs.

His boyfriend cries out at the emptiness when Chanyeol pulls away to fumble for a condom. 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says again, and _fuck_ if the way Kyungsoo says his name isn’t the best thing he’s ever heard, sending him to scrabble at his chest, biting at a nipple before trying to sink down into his tight heat.

“ _Hngg,_ ” Kyungsoo pants, eyes glazing over, splayed under Chanyeol like he was _made_ for it. His legs spread even wider, face twisting in desperation when he realizes Chanyeol isn’t moving.

“Alright?” Chanyeol asks, cursing as Kyungsoo’s answer comes in the form of twisting his hips forward so the whole of his length catches on his hole. A moan is ripped out of his chest; Kyungsoo always feels so _delicious,_ so _good,_ so _perfect_ —

“Move, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo whimpers, thin and trailing, hands bunching the sheets. His cock is red, slapping against Chanyeol’s hoodie, and possessiveness bubbles up in the base of his throat, made even stronger by the wail Kyungsoo emits when he starts thrusting in a relentless pace. 

His loudness is one of the best contradictions Chanyeol loved about his boyfriend; so silent everywhere else, screaming when Chanyeol hits the right spot inside him. 

Three years has him knowing all the signs, and Kyungsoo is ethereal like this, afternoon beams gliding across his sweaty face, tongue lolled out in pleasure, legs wrapped tight around Chanyeol’s middle. 

“So beautiful,” Chanyeol groans, plunging deep and steady, making sure he scratches against Kyungsoo’s prostate with every drag, nerves set alight every time his cock catches on Kyungsoo’s rim, loving the way Kyungsoo falls apart in his hands, “so pretty like this. Such a good boy. Mine. _All mine.”_

 _“Yours,_ ” Kyungsoo tries to say, face scrunched up in bliss, “all yours, Chanyeol, please—” 

He curses when Kyungsoo opens his mouth for Chanyeol’s fingers, so pliant under him, sucking when Chanyeol pushes in, drool pooling at the sides of his mouth.

"Can't talk baby?" Chanyeol slows down, groaning when Kyungsoo clenches at the change of pace, "love you like this. Too fucked out to think, can't even tell me what you want."

Kyungsoo nods, probably not knowing what Chanyeol's saying. He blinks dazedly, looking wrecked with his half-lidded eyes and red cheeks and full lips wrapped around his fingers, slowly rising to awareness with every second of Chanyeol not moving. 

Just when he tries to talk, to beg again, Chanyeol thrusts, sharp, knowing exactly where he's moving. 

Kyungsoo's words choke off into a moan, music to Chanyeol's ears, small noises of desperation as more precum pools over Kyungsoo's dick. 

"Beautiful," Chanyeol starts rutting, setting a relentless pace, steady and focused on the way Kyungsoo crumbles to pieces under him with every stroke. "My little slut, my sweet baby, babbling like you were made to be mine." 

Kyungsoo's hands come to loops around Chanyeol's neck, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder as his face twists with his oncoming orgasm.

"Chanyeol, I'm—aahh—" 

"Yeah," Chanyeol whispers, "me too." 

Kyungsoo shudders around him, and Chnyeol's pace grows erratic, chasing after release. Each drag of his cock against Kyungsoo's walls has bliss pulsing through his body, sweat mingling with the pure, unfiltered desire going through them. 

"Yeol-- _ugh, f-fuck—"_

Chanyeol takes his neck in his mouth. "Mine, mine mine."

"Yours," the words spill out of Kyungsoo, instinctive at this point, the only thing in the world Chanyeol's lips and the cock spearing through his prostate, "yours, _fuck, Chanyeol—"_

With a high-pitched mewl, Kyungsoo comes, clenching impossibly tight around him, spitting cum on his hoodie, looking fucked out of his mind, and the sight is enough to have Chanyeol growling, pistoning in and out as he milks Kyungsoo through his orgasm, chasing, chasing, chasing after his own. 

Kyungsoo is boneless under him, babbling noises that sound like Chanyeol's name as he's fucked open, mewling as Chanyeol takes and takes before tumbling over the edge, bliss overloading his senses.

After discarding the condom to the bin, he drops beside Kyungsoo, buckling into sheets, panting through his high—a finger slides over his, feather soft, and they instinctively look for each other, holding hands, Chanyeol's thumb grazing Kyungsoo's palms as they both come down, back to the room around them. 

Kyungsoo throws his hoodie off to the laundry basket, and after a while, he shucks off his shirt too. 

"Yeol," he says, converting to the koala he always turns into after sex, "Yeol, I want."

Chanyeol chuckles, knowing what he means, pulling him against his chest. His heartbeat pulses under his touch, and with how tight Kyungsoo holds onto him, you'd think he was trying to meld them together. 

"How are you so clingy," Chanyeol murmurs down to his pulse point, appreciating the dark marks on the way there. "You're even clingier than me."

"Everyone already knows that." Kyungsoo's voice is rough, throaty. "I can't believe you didn't recognize me last night."

Chanyeol tries to pull back, but Kyungsoo's pout reels him right back in. 

"When did I not recognize you?"

"You told me to fuck off when I tried to help you stand. In the kitchen." 

"That was Minseok," Chanyeol asks, "right?" 

"It was me at first."

More than his smile pulling into the perfect heart, Chanyeol loves the way Kyungsoo slides into his little expressions, small twists of his lips that look like they aren't meant for anyone else. 

"Then Minseok took over."

"What did I say?" Chanyeol burrows deeper into the pillows, Kyungsoo's hair fanning his face.

"That I was the best thing to ever happen to you," Kyungsoo says, making him freeze. "You should really learn to shut up more, Yeol. One day you'll something say something risky and get in trouble."

"Maybe," Chanyeol hums, unable to contain the glow in his chest, trailing small kisses of appreciation down his boyfriend's neck. "I meant every word though. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

"You always get so sappy like this," Kyungsoo splays his hand over his chest, rising so he can settle on Chanyeol.

Now, it's his legs that are caging Chanyeol's, the closeness sending a sleepy kind of buzz through him.

"I feel the same."

**Author's Note:**

> i am....very embarrassed right now kskashfjhfj but!!! this fanfic is for oneweek's (@sinceyoulooked) halloween chansoo art on twitter!! she showed me some previews some weeks before and i went "u know what i've never tried this genre before maybe i could try".... and this fic is the result! 
> 
> this is my first time writing smut, and it was really hard to find a basis for writing styles when it came to smut, mainly because, let's be honest, writing style is the last thing on your mind when you read it lol 
> 
> anyways!!! i hope you liked it!! i tried to not get too into what i'm not too experienced in writing, but if there are concerns feel free to comment it down below!! i don't know if this qualifies as porn without plot, but since there's a format to it (5+1) i chose not to put in the tag. 
> 
> my twt is @mirasolexo, if you want to check out my works over there!!!


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